The Faded Guest
The tapestry did not unravel; it bloomed. It hung in the center of the high-ceilinged auction house in London, a vast, undulating sheet of crimson and gold that seemed to breathe with a rhythm independent of the air conditioning’s hum. Elias Thorne, a restorer of textiles whose hands had long since mapped the geography of every frayed hem and stained cuff, stood before it. He was a man of...
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